Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own Harry Potter or related characters/settings.

The Red Queen Hypothesis – A metaphor for the co-evolutionary arms race that exists between competing species. One species evolves an adaptation that increases its fitness and gives it a competitive advantage over a second species. Individuals of the second species possessing traits that allow them to outcompete the first species are favoured, and the second species evolves a competitively advantageous adaptation, and so on. Theory first proposed by Leigh Van Valen.

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Where's My Reward to Reap?

"I refuse to spend the rest of my life trapped like some worthless housefly, Albus!"

"You are not trapped, Sirius. Your name has been cleared. It would be wise for you to keep your head down, however. Voldemort is not yet defeated. I know you wish to accompany Harry, but the Order needs you here, at Grimmauld Place, to research charms that could potentially weaken Voldemort. Charms are, after all, your strong suit."

Sirius bristled with anger at the headmaster's casual attitude and apparent lack of understanding. Didn't he know how difficult it was to "sit and stay" as Snape frequently ordered him to do, a cruel smirk gracing his lips? How frustrating it was to be completely useless?

Since his escape from Azkaban, Sirius had done nothing but "keep his head down". He'd been in hiding four years before Pettigrew got himself caught by the Order. And a fat lot of good that did Sirius. Dumbledore still wasn't going to let him leave the God forsaken house. The sight of the headmaster's impassive expression served only to infuriate him further.

"I will not remain here any longer, Albus. This house is a manifestation of everything I resent!"

"Understandable. And yet, I cannot allow you to leave. Where could you possibly--"

"He can stay with me."

Surprised, both men turned their attention to the speaker. Hermione Granger stood, leaning on the doorframe between the kitchen and the entrance hall, her cool gaze resting on the two men caught holding placemats and silverware- a most undignified position. Her lip twitched at the sight of Albus Dumbledore, only man Tom Riddle feared, and Sirius Black, ladies' man, setting the table with a floral theme.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's blue eyes appraised her for a moment before a smile bloomed across his wizened visage, "What a wonderful suggestion! I trust your... trip was uneventful?"

"Very," Hermione replied, glancing at Sirius, who was staring at her.

Sirius hadn't seen Hermione in over a year. She had spent the previous summer with her parents; parents who, courtesy of Lord Voldemort, were no longer living. He'd assumed she had spent the rest of the year in mourning, declining invitations to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place in favour of coming to terms with her grief.

That had not been the case, however.

A few weeks ago, Molly Weasley had lost patience with her, stating that she was bringing Hermione to the Burrow for the summer holidays whether the girl liked it or not. Dumbledore had stopped her, explaining that Hermione was not, in fact, grief-stricken. She was working for the Order.

"Does that arrangement meet with your satisfaction, Sirius?"

"O-Of course, Albus," Sirius replied, conscious of his current gaping-fish-like countenance. Pulling himself together he smiled, nodding his thanks to young woman before him.

Hermione had always been pretty, but the past year had certainly refined her beauty. She had slimmed down, though she'd never been overweight, and her body had grown into its small, but attractive, curves. He was happy to note that her dark auburn curls, while shorter, were just as unruly as ever.

The most notable change, however, was in her eyes. Though still a dark brown, they exuded confidence and maturity, a sad wisdom, of sorts, that legitimized her intelligence.

He wondered what, exactly, she had been doing for Dumbledore.

Hermione returned the smile warmly, albeit tiredly, before turning and making her way up the sweeping staircase that led to Grimmauld Place's upper floors.

He convinced himself it was a trick of the light that had, for a moment, made her eyes appear shadowed and dark with worry. Slightly unnerved, he turned back to his assigned task of setting the table, hoping to forget that, in that moment, Hermione appeared to have aged ten years.

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Chapter title, "Where's my reward to reap", from the song "I Want to Know" by The Mavericks